A Hymn to Our Lord

WHEN to Thy beloved on Patmos,
Through the open door in heaven,
Visions of the perfect worship,
Savour, by Thy love were given--
Surely there was truth and spirit,
Surely there a pattern shown
How Thy Church should do her service
When she comes before Thy throne.

'Tis for Thee we bid the frontal
Its embroidered wealth unfold
'Tis for Thee we deck the Reredos
With the colors and the gold;
Thine the floral glow and fragrance,
Thine the vesture's fair array
Thine the starry lights that glitter,
Where Thou dost Thy light display.

'Tis to Thee the chant is lifted,
'Tis to Thee the heads are bowed,
Far less deep was Israel's rapture
When the glory filled the cloud,
Oh, our own true God Incarnate,
What should Christians' ritual be,
But a voice to utter somewhat
Of their joy and pride in Thee!

Lord, bring home the glorious lesson,
To their hearts, who strangely deem
That an unmajestic worship
Doth Thy majesty beseem.
Show them more of Thy dear presence
Let them, let them come to know
That our King is throned among us,
And His Church is Heaven below!